


Eight letters.....

by aljohnson



Series: "We're all alone" [7]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Crime, F/M, Murder, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A body has been dumped on a street in Hawthorn. Naturally, Jack has been called in to investigate....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Corpse

As Jack stood in the street, considering the arrangement of the corpse, he was not entirely surprised to hear the familiar noise of Phryne’s Hispano-Suiza, and the beeping of the horn as Phryne parked the car further up the street. Jack hurriedly turned to Collins, who was busy taking notes.

“Collins, this appears to be a thoroughly respectable neighbourhood, populated no doubt by people who are more than happy to assist the police in any way they can” Jack stated, trying to ignore the twitching net curtains of some of the inhabitants, and the way in which several housewives were now paying very close attention to the cleanliness of their front steps, despite it very definitely not being a Monday. 

“Yes Sir” said Collins, looking up and down the street.

“Now Collins, given the location of, the corpse, we are going to need to requisition a temporary office. I suggest you try,” Jack pretended to consider his options, “that house there, the one with the red door” he indicated the neat property, and affected peering closely at the door frame, “number twenty six. Try there.”

“Sir?” said Collins, suddenly utterly petrified.

“Knock on the door Collins, and tell the person who answers, no doubt it will be a woman, that Detective Inspector Robinson of City South Police Station requests the use of her Dining Room on Official Police Business”

“Umm, Yes Sir” replied Collins, hurrying off, worried as to exactly what would happen if he received a refusal. 

As he hurried off to the indicated house, Phryne swept up to Jack, curiously sweeping a gaze over the corpse as she did. 

“Hello Inspector Robinson” she smouldered.

“Miss Fisher” said Jack, smiling slightly. 

“I haven’t seen you since you left my Christmas in July party disgracefully early” Phryne teased. 

That had been an interesting evening: Jane had produced something that was claimed to be mistletoe, although Phryne had doubts given the state of the bedraggled branch, and had tried to entice Jack and Phryne into a kiss. Phryne had looked at Jack and read an expression on his face that said, quite distinctly, that if he started kissing her, he wouldn’t stop, and that would raise, well, questions, and would somewhat scandalise Aunt P. And Dot. And Jane. And Hugh. And so Jack had left, relatively early, sweeping her into his arms for the lightest, most chaste of kisses on the front step, as he bid her good night. 

“If I’d stayed any later, I would not have left” said Jack, relishing the ability to be able to talk to Phryne honestly now about his desire for her, “and besides, do you have any notion of how much paperwork all those bodies resulted in?” 

“You know I don’t concern myself with such mundane issues, Jack” said Phryne, wafting her gloved hand lightly. “Now, what do we have here?” she asked, kneeling by the body and lightly flicking back the man’s collar.

“I’m sorry, what exactly are you doing here?” asked Jack, switching effortlessly back into ‘unamused Inspector’ mode. 

“Well, I have been retained to ensure that justice is done….” Phryne began.

“Retained? Who by? Do you know the victim?” asked Jack, somewhat resigned now to the notion that murder did indeed find Phryne.

“No. However, the victim’s sister’s husband’s Personal Valet is a former colleague of Mr Butler. Mr B, apparently, has been singing my praises as a detective and pursuer of justice regularly.” Phryne spoke with a hint of pride.

“The victim’s, sister’s, husband’s, personal valet?” spat Jack, incredulously. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Hugh Collins knocked nervously on the red painted door of number 26. After a brief moment, the door opened and a woman with brown, slightly wavy, shoulder length hair stood framed in the doorway. She looked Hugh up and down in a manner that he would have found very familiar, had he not been nervously practising his request.

“Good morning Madam,” said Hugh, almost bowing, “as you may be aware Madam, there has been, an incident, in the street.”

The woman said nothing, but looked past Hugh into the street behind him. She had of course heard the noise and ruckus, and had twitched her own curtains slightly. She had seen Jack of course, and now saw that he had been joined by a woman who she recognised from heavy newspaper coverage. She smiled and responded simply, giving nothing away, “yes”.

Hugh swallowed, and coughed slightly before he began speaking again, “yes, well, madam, Detective Inspector Robinson of City South Police Station requests the use of your dining room, madam, on Official Police Business. For use as a temporary office” he added, quickly. He was relieved that he had managed to get the words out.

“And who are you then?” the woman asked, in a tone that suggested he should not avoid answering.

“Oh, of course, I am Constable Collins, madam” said Hugh, standing to attention. 

The woman smiled, oh; this was Hugh. Oh wasn’t he divine, she thought. So nervous and anxious to get things right. 

“Did your Inspector say why he had chosen my house?” the woman asked, deciding to have a little fun.

“The Victoria Police Force would be most grateful, Madam” stammered Hugh, worried that he was about to be turned away. He had no clue why he had been dispatched to this particular house.

“I’m sure they would” said the woman, smiling again, “I would be delighted to host your Inspector, Constable Collins. Send him over when he’s ready”

“Thank you, Madam. Oh, could I take your name please?”

“Mrs Evans” said Lizzie, shutting the door as she did. Hugh made a note in his book, and turned back to return to the crime scene.


	2. Two relatives....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, look who's back! Lizzie's back!

In the house, Lizzie did a little jig in the hallway. Plainly, Jack had not told his Constable who she was, and she was delighted to go along with that notion if Jack was playing a little game. It was so unlike him to have fun, and she was willing to indulge him. She quickly moved into the dining room, scanning for signs which would betray them. She hastily removed a photograph from the mantelpiece and stored it in the sideboard. She moved a couple of recent newspapers to the top of the piano, covering the album of clippings she was keeping. A partially completed knitted sweater was wrapped around chunky knitting needles and placed into a basket, the needles peeking out from the side. 

Satisfied that the room was tidy enough, Lizzie laid out her third best table cloth, determining that Jack might have who knows what manner of evidence with him, and that she could afford to have to throw away this cloth if it became ruined. She moved to the kitchen, placing the kettle on to boil, and setting out a plate of biscuits. She had no doubt that she was about to meet Phryne Fisher, and she was thrilled by the prospect.

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Back in the street, the police photographer was taking pictures of the corpse. There was no obvious evidence lying near the body. 

The photographer’s work complete to Jack’s satisfaction, he and Phryne knelt by the body. He carefully pulled down the man’s collar. There was deep bruising. “Strangled” he said.

“But why are his clothes in such a state?” asked Phryne, running a gloved hand across the man’s torn jacket. She stood up and looked at the angle of the body. She looked at the street again, “I presume he doesn’t live on this street?”

“No. Identification in his Wallet reveals him to be a Mr Gordon McPercy, and his address is local, but a few streets away” replied Jack.

“So, no robbery” mused Phryne. She knelt back down and gently but firmly felt the man’s ribs, arms and neck. “I think I feel some broken bones”

Jack reached over and felt next to where her hand was rested. “Hmm, yes, perhaps. I’ll ask the coroner to check specifically. What are you thinking?”

Phryne tried not to grin. How far they had come, she thought. Now he was asking her for her opinion. “Perhaps he was thrown from a vehicle?” she suggested. “It would explain the somewhat odd location where he was found. Why would a man be found dead in the middle of the street? The gutter, perhaps, if he had been attacked on the pavement? But if he was strangled, then that hasn’t happened on the street, it takes too long for it not to be noticed by some passer-by or curtain twitcher. He doesn’t live here, so he was murdered somewhere else, or in a car, and then tossed out by our perpetrator, as he drove past?”

“Hmm, it’s a possibility, certainly. It would explain the lack of an overcoat; it was cold last night, and that might have been left in the vehicle he was thrown from. We need to try and trace his movements. Collins!” Jack bellowed towards his Constable. 

“Yes, Sir” said Collins, coming over to the corpse. 

“Was anyone at the house able to provide details of our victim’s movements last night?” Jack asked.

“Er, Yes Sir.” Hugh passed his book to Jack, who read through the details, raising an eyebrow. He showed the note to Phryne, who reacted similarly. “Sir?” questioned Hugh, aware that he was missing something, but not sure what.

“Did his staff volunteer this information?” asked Jack.

“Well, they asked if it was confidential, and I said of course it was, Sir, and that whatever they might be concerned about sharing with us could be vital to the investigation. Why do you ask Sir?” babbled Hugh, worried he had made some sort of mistake.

“This is the name of a well-known club that is exclusively for ‘Gentlemen’” replied Jack. He watched the cogs revolve in Hugh’s mind.

“Sir!” Hugh gasped.

“Well. It might not be relevant to our enquiry. Now, was our householder receptive?” Jack asked, gesturing across the street.

“She was Sir. A, Mrs Evans, Sir” replied Hugh. 

“Excellent, thank you” said Jack, rubbing his hands to dispel the cold. No such problems for Phryne, who, he noticed, was wearing a huge fur wrap, over some thick, black, wool trousers. He presumed there was a jacket of some sort underneath the fur, but it was so huge that he could barely see any of her tiny frame beneath it. Her hat was a close fitting black number, and he was thankful that it was not one of her more absurd feathered numbers. He rather liked them all, but the feather things always seemed like they might threaten to poke someone’s eye out if Phryne mis-timed a head turn. Perhaps that was the point he thought? Perhaps her headwear was just one more weapon in Phryne’s armoury? He was also thankful that she wasn’t wearing what he had come to refer to as ‘the breaking and entering beret’; he thought that might be too modern for Lizzie to warm to, and it was very important to him that Lizzie liked her. 

Jack was also aware that he was probably about to step into some potentially dangerous territory. ‘Meeting the family’ seemed like something that Phryne was very unlikely to do, but he wanted to bring her into his life, as she had brought him into hers, and Lizzie at least seemed predisposed to Phryne, from their conversations over the last few Sunday lunches. Of course, he also hadn’t given Lizzie any advance notice of any of this; it was merely highly convenient that a body had been found practically outside her house. He had been surprised, but not unpleasantly, when Phryne had swept around the corner in her car, and he had decided to make the best of the situation. He had no doubt that Lizzie would already have noticed his arrival in the street, and that he would be scolded if he failed to at least knock on to say ‘Hello’. 

He turned to Phryne, offering his arm, “come with me?” he asked.

“Where are we going?” asked Phryne, unsure of what was happening.

“We are requisitioning a friendly citizen’s Dining Room as a temporary office, whilst enquiries are raised in the area” responded Jack, “who knows, perhaps this Mrs Evans is the sort of observant lady who can provide us with some relevant information” added Jack, knowing that his sister was exactly the sort of observant lady to be able to provide him with an immense amount of information. He could only hope that it would be relevant to the enquiry. 

“Collins, you stay outside, if anyone acts suspiciously, get their details and take a statement. When the ambulance finally deigns to arrive, supervise the removal of the body” said Jack, his usual instructional tone softened slightly. Hugh nodded and assumed a position just outside the gate, eagerly observing the comings and goings. 

He steered Phryne over to the red door and rapped the knocker, praying that none of his sister’s neighbours would choose this moment to leave their houses and betray him by greeting him warmly.

The door opened, and Lizzie tried to prevent a grin from erupting across her face. Standing there was Jack, his arm gently supporting Phryne Fisher, who was just as glamorous as all the newspaper reports had stated. She could tell from the look on Miss Fisher’s face that Jack had not told Phryne who she was, and therefore she decided to remain quiet and follow Jack’s lead. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow in inquisition.

“Mrs Evans?” asked Jack, entirely redundantly.

“Yes” she confirmed. So, he was playing a game. 

Jack reached for his warrant card out of habit, flashing it at his sister, who tried not to laugh, “Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, City South. I believe my Constable has spoken with you?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“Yes” confirmed Lizzie again; she had no intention of making this easy for Jack. 

Jack cleared his throat slightly, damn his sister; this had been a foolhardy decision, “I believe you have kindly agreed to allow us the use of your dining room?” he asked, throwing Lizzie a slightly withering look that conveyed a request for her to give him a break.

“Indeed” responded Lizzie, turning now to look at Phryne, “and this is….” she gently indicated Phryne.

“Ah, yes, of course. This is The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher. She occasionally assists on some of our cases, and her unique insights have been requested on this occasion” Jack raised an eyebrow towards Lizzie indicating that he knew that she knew exactly who Phryne was.

Phryne offered her hand, “please, Miss Fisher is fine” responded Phryne.

“Mrs Elizabeth Evans” responded Lizzie, shaking the gloved hand. Phryne had a strong but polite grip, which was loosened after just the right length of time. Lizzie observed her carefully; there was absolutely no hint of recognition on her face, and Lizzie wondered whether Jack had even told her that he had a sister. 

Lizzie ushered the pair over the door-step, carefully pushing the door to, but leaving it slightly ajar. Mandy would be home from school shortly. 

 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jack led the way into the dining room, forgetting that he shouldn’t know where it was. He took off his overcoat, and his hat, placing them on a spare dining chair. He indicated the chair opposite him, “have a seat” he smiled towards Phryne, who was hovering in the doorway. 

“I’ll just fetch the tea” interjected Lizzie, squeezing past Phryne’s fur to make her way towards the kitchen.

Phryne looked around the room quickly. It was a mostly neat, perfectly respectable, perfectly average suburban house. There was a piano in one alcove, with a few items on top of it. There was a mantelpiece with family photographs arranged lovingly. Something felt off there, somehow, although Phryne could not pinpoint what. She took a seat, loosening her fur slightly as she did so. The jacket underneath was also black wool, with an embroidered pattern running from the collar at the top to the bottom hem where it just skimmed her waist. She looked devastatingly beautiful, and Jack suddenly wished he had been able to give her advance notice of this visit. 

Jack spread the papers they had gathered out on the table, gazing over them, as he hoped for inspiration for strike. He was suddenly worried that this was all about to go terribly. Maybe he should say something?

Phryne looked at Jack. He seemed remarkably at ease in this room, which was most unlike Jack. Her detective’s mind switched track from considering the murder to considering what was odd about their current circumstances.

Jack saw Phryne’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “So, what has Mr Butler’s former colleague been able to tell you?” he asked, temporarily redirecting Phryne’s attention. 

Phryne started talking then, relating what the Valet had told her. His master’s brother in law was a lovely chap, always fun and exciting. The valet thought there had been some heartache in the chap’s past, but nothing specific, although complicated, of course, by an inability to talk about it. His master on the other hand, he had added unbidden, was a much more dour chap, constantly fretting and worrying, despite having a stable position in business, and a wife who adored him. The Valet was concerned that the mistress of his house would take this very badly. She had loved her brother dearly, and the manner of his passing was already causing her distress. 

Jack nodded, making notes as Phryne related all of this to him. He flicked through Hugh’s notes, which were reassuringly thorough. 

“Do you think the homosexuality could be relevant?” Phryne asked, as bluntly as ever. 

“I hope not. That would feel a little cliché, wouldn’t it? A man killed either because he made the wrong move or someone made an unwelcome move on him and took the rejection badly? We’ll have to look into it of course….” Jack’s voice trailed off as Lizzie came into the room, carrying a tray loaded with a teapot, a tray of biscuits and all the necessary crockery and cutlery. She sat it down on the edge of the table as Jack hastily moved the papers to one side. 

Lizzie took the seat at the end of the table. She arranged a cup and saucer, “Tea, Miss Fisher?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you. Do you have lemon?” Phryne scanned the tray.

“Of course,” replied Lizzie, pouring the tea and adding a slice of lemon, before passing the cup to Phryne. 

Phryne smiled in thanks as Lizzie poured a second cup, adding milk and handing it to Jack. Lizzie poured herself a cup and placed the plate of biscuits in a space on the tablecloth. Jack took one eagerly, chomping into the biscuit with relish. 

“So, what’s the case?” asked Lizzie.

“A Mr Gordon McPercy. Lives on Auburn Road” Jack said, “any chance you know him?”

“What number?” asked Lizzie

“173?” said Jack, riffling through Hugh’s notes.

“Oh, south of the railway line, sorry, outside of my curtilage.” Shrugged Lizzie, “but why was he found in the street here?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out” replied Jack, absent-mindedly helping himself to a second biscuit, “have a biscuit Phryne, they’re excellent” he pushed the plate towards her.  
Phryne said nothing but took a biscuit. This was all highly irregular; since when did Jack openly discuss cases with members of the public? She laughed to herself. She supposed that was what he did with her, really, or at least had when they had first met. She nibbled carefully on the biscuit, Jack was right, it was excellent. And curiously familiar. 

“So who found the body?” asked Lizzie, noting that Phryne appeared to be deep in thought. 

Jack consulted Hugh’s notes once more. “A Mrs Henry, at number seven” offered Jack. He knew a number of Lizzie’s neighbours, but this name was unfamiliar. 

Lizzie sharply inhaled her breath, “oh dear. Of all the people it could have been.” She paused and Jack gestured for his sister to continue, “We will never hear the end of this. And by the time it gets to the end of the week, she will have blown the whole thing out of all proportion. The corpse will become more rotten, the discovery more dramatic. No help to Prosecution Counsel I’m afraid; get her statement today and don’t be afraid to be fierce with her, otherwise she will embellish even the smallest detail”. It was a remarkably thorough character assassination, and Phryne was shocked that Mrs Evans would speak so freely in front of her, when she had no clue as to who she was, or whether she may herself know this Mrs Henry. 

“Noted, thank you” said Jack, smiling broadly. Phryne was immediately exceptionally suspicious. Lizzie saw Phryne stiffen, as her eyes swept around the room once more. An eye squinted slightly and she very slightly tilted her head to one side. Lizzie decided that Jack had dug his own hole, and would have to either stop digging, or otherwise find his own way back out. 

Lizzie poured a fourth cup of tea, “does your Constable take milk?” she asked, lightly, looking at Jack, who appeared to flounder somewhat at the question.

“I believe he does, yes” replied Phryne, who had seen Dot making tea for Hugh in her kitchen, “and two sugars. I believe” she added, smiling. 

Lizzie completed the process, and stood up, pushing her chair away, “well then, I’ll take this out to him, bring him up to date with developments”. She smiled, picked up two of the biscuits, arranging them carefully on the edge of the saucer and making her way out of the room. 

Silence fell, as Jack continued to read through the notes, whilst making some of his own. Phryne finished her biscuit, trying to place why it seemed so recognisable to her. She stood up, carefully discarding the fur, and looked carefully around her. She moved to the sideboard, there was a basket with some knitting needles. She positioned herself between it and Jack, glancing over her shoulder, and carefully lifted the lid. There was some bundled up knitting, which was plainly only partially complete. The wool was a mix of different colours, and Phryne could tell, even in this state, that there was a complicated pattern in development. 

She replaced the lid and moved across the room to the mantelpiece behind Jack. She bent down ever so slightly, and observed an exceptionally faint line, where the mantel was slightly less dusty. It took a keen eye, and the light from the sun falling in just the right way to reveal it, but there was definitely a picture missing from the arrangement of family shots. 

She moved to the piano. There was some sort of album with some newspapers casually folded on top of it, and a small pile of sheet music. Much of it was exam pieces, from Grade 1 to Grade 8, and there was a book entitled ‘Collected works of Mr Cole Porter’ in the pile. Phryne raised an eyebrow.

She turned round, moving back around the table to lean her weight onto her chair. She assessed all the evidence: complex knitting, a missing photograph, a piano, Cole Porter. A Jack who had spoken very informally to Mrs Evans, had eaten the biscuits enthusiastically, and, she now realised, had not said how he took his tea. Suddenly, a memory of a stolen biscuit returned to her. 

She gasped, “Your secret stash!” she exclaimed.

“What?” said Jack, now looking up and seeing Phryne pointing accusingly at the plate of baking. 

“I knew I knew that biscuit. It’s exactly the same as the one from your secret stash that you keep hidden in your desk at the office” Phryne proclaimed.

“Well that answers the question about how my supply was decimated” replied Jack, utterly nonplussed.

“Jack, whose house is this; why are we here? We are no more than fifteen minutes from your office, we rarely requisition houses belonging to members of the public, however overly helpful they may be, and there is no earthly reason for us not to return to the station if all your work at the Crime Scene has been completed. So whose house is this?”

Jack swallowed, he should have known that there was no way a detecting mind as sharp as Phryne’s would have been fooled. He was oddly proud that he had got away with it for as long as he had. He opened his mouth to speak when a small whirlwind burst into the room.

“Uncle Jack!” cried the small girl.


	3. Three Words...

Out in the street, Lizzie had handed the cup of tea to Hugh, who had taken it gratefully and sipped appreciatively. He munched the biscuits thoughtfully. 

“So,” said Lizzie, “busy week then, Constable?” 

“Fairly, yes, thank you Mrs Evans. These are excellent biscuits” replied Hugh.

“Been on any interesting cases?” enquired Lizzie, lightly.

“The Inspector and I went up to Jamieson overnight. My fiancée was away for Christmas in July with her boss, who, you’ve just met, actually. Miss Fisher?” Hugh wondered lightly why he was inexplicably telling everything to this woman.

“She seems lovely” replied Lizzie, noncommittally, falling silent once more.

“Well, Dottie, that’s my fiancée, rang me to say that there had been a death, and that Miss Fisher thought it was murder. And the Inspector decided that we should go up there right away. Which was a good job really, because by the time we got there, there’d been another one, a murder I mean, and then we got snowed in, and we had to stay overnight, and the power cut out, and the next day there were even more murders. I thought we were all going to be killed Mrs Evans, I was terribly worried for my Dottie, but in the end the Inspector and Miss Fisher figured it all out.” Hugh waxed enthusiastically.

“You had to stay overnight? With the power off? That must have been awfully cold” questioned Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. Oh, she was going to tease Jack mercilessly about this. 

Hugh swallowed, and blushed a beetroot shade of red. Lizzie quirked her lips. Oh, Hugh knew something. And something he felt he shouldn’t. She’d wager it was about Jack and Phryne. Jack was a very good policeman, but he would have made a terrible spy; he was unable to keep anything secret for any great length of time, and she’d be very sure that Jack was not being as discrete about his changed relationship with Miss Fisher as he thought he was.

“Terribly cold today, isn’t it Constable?” Lizzie decided to change the subject.

“Erm yes,” said Hugh, drinking the last of his tea. He handed the cup back to Mrs Evans, as a dark haired child ran up the street. She stopped in front of them, and looked up at Hugh.

“Hello” she said, a beaming smile on her face, “who are you?”

“I’m Constable Hugh Collins, little Miss, who are you?” replied Hugh, crouching down to speak to the girl.

“I’m Amanda Evans, and this is my mother, and this is where we live. What are you doing here?” Hugh was unknowingly discovering that a talent for inquisition ran strongly within the Robinson blood.

“Well, Miss Amanda; my boss, the Inspector, and I, are investigating a, case,” Hugh swallowed, not wanting to use the word ‘murder’ in front of the child, “and he’s inside in your dining room, going through our notes”.

Mandy’s eyes widened, “is it a murder?” she asked.

Hugh stammered, not sure what to say. He looked to Mrs Evans for guidance. Lizzie looked down at her daughter.

“Now Mandy, stop asking the Constable all these questions. Now go inside, there’s a surprise in the Dining Room” she ushered the girl through the gate.

Mandy did not need telling twice, the prospect of a surprise diverting her from all other concerns. She ran down the short path and through the front door, building up speed all the while.

A second later there was a cry of delight from the Dining Room, and Lizzie turned to Hugh. 

“She’s remarkably advanced in some ways, for her age” said Lizzie, beaming. 

“I’m not sure she should go into the Dining Room, Mrs Evans. The Inspector can get quite, short, if he’s interrupted when he’s trying to figure out a case.” Hugh tactfully tried to state.

“I wouldn’t worry Hugh, I’m sure he’ll make an exception just this once.” Lizzie replied, folding her arms. She watched as Hugh processed the fact that she’d used his first name. He looked at her, an expression of confusion written large across his face. “Look, plainly he’s not going to tell you, but, I’m your Inspector’s sister. Which is why he’s chosen my house to have his little ‘consultation’ with Miss Fisher. Who, by the way, is quite probably just finding out who Amanda is, and by extension who I am. And did you even know he had a sister?” 

“No, Mrs Evans, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. He never talks about his family. I mean, I only knew about his wife, I mean, former, wife, being the Deputy, I mean, Chief, I mean, former Chief Commissioner’s daughter because when I got assigned to work underneath him some of the other lads told me. I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn Mrs Evans” Hugh blustered. 

“You’re fine, Hugh. I fully recognise that my brother can be a little, brusque, on occasion. Now, I’m going to go inside, and stop my little brother from digging himself into an even bigger hole with Miss Fisher than he already has”. She smiled at Hugh and swept into the house. 

 

**********************************************************

“Uncle Jack!” cried Mandy, barrelling over to him and throwing her arms around his waist, “it’s not even Sunday! There’s a Constable outside Uncle Jack, he said you’re here on a case. Is it a murder? Is it, is it, is it? Is it anyone mummy or you know? Have you solved it? Do you know who did it yet?” Mandy had to pause for breath.

“Uncle Jack?” said Phryne, in horror, knocking back into the sideboard. 

At this, Mandy’s attention was suddenly diverted from the issue of Jack’s case. She looked at Phryne and squealed, balling her hands into fists and holding them to her mouth in excitement. “Uncle Jack, is that her?” Mandy turned back to Jack, tugging on his jacket. 

“Who do you think I am?” asked Phryne, attempting to remain calm. 

“You are, ‘The Hon-our-rabble Miss Phryn-eeeee Fisher’, the pretty lady who helps Uncle Jack” explained Mandy, “did I get it right Uncle Jack?” she turned back to him once more, looking for approval.

“You did, Mandy. Have you been practising?” asked Jack, trying to focus on his niece and not the sight of Phryne sinking into the dining chair across from him. 

“Uncle Jack?” Phryne repeated, once more. Was that the sort of ‘Uncle Jack’ that meant he was related, or was it the sort of ‘Uncle’ that was applied by children talking about adult men their parents were friends with? Or, more worryingly still, was it possible that the word ‘Uncle’ was applied to ‘mummy’s’ current boyfriend? Phryne tried very hard to avoid hyperventilating. What was going on? 

Lizzie entered the dining room, beaming brightly. “Now, has Mandy here caused a whirlwind of total chaos?” she asked.

“Uncle Jack?” said Phryne, now approaching being in a state of shock.

“Ah, I see she has” said Lizzie, “and I guess Jack still hasn’t explained” she added, looking towards Phryne. She noted that Phryne looked on the verge of either tears or rage, and that the situation needed calming, right now. “Miss Fisher, I’m terribly sorry, Jack’s manners can be appalling. I’m Lizzie Evans; Jack’s sister. This is my daughter, Amanda. Who, as you may be able to tell, has heard rather a lot about you. I am guessing the same cannot be said for you?”

Phryne blinked, rapidly and repeatedly, as she quickly shifted her thinking. She wasn’t going to have to kill Jack for being ‘involved’ with another woman, and it briefly occurred to Phryne, as her mind worked quickly, that an expectation of fidelity would ordinarily be somewhat hypocritical of her to expect, but was suddenly something she wanted, very much, with Jack. He had a sister, and this was his sister’s house; presumably the sister was the source of his jumper she had seen at the chalet, and presumably, the missing photograph from the mantelpiece featured Jack. Which either meant that she had received advance notice of this ‘visit’, or had worked very quickly to allow a small deception to be achieved. It occurred to Phryne that Jack could not have known she would have been retained on this case, and therefore that the sister was a quick thinker, and somewhat adaptable to rapidly changing circumstances. On reflection, this was exactly what she would expect from a sister of Jack’s. 

Lizzie waited patiently, waiting for Phryne to regain her composure. She did so remarkably quickly. Lizzie looked at Jack, who was still hugging Mandy, who had now worked her way to sit on his lap. She was looking at all the papers on the table, trying to work out what the case was about. 

Phryne stood back up, and smiled. She had no idea whether Jack had told Lizzie anything about their ‘involvement’. “I am so sorry, I failed to realise” she offered her hand to Lizzie once more, “it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you. I can see the resemblance now” the two women shook hands, and Jack released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. 

“Have you been to any more parties?” asked Mandy

“I’m sorry?” said Phryne, turning towards the child, “parties?”

“In furs like that one” Mandy pointed to the huge fur which was swamping the dining chair. “With the shiny jewels and the pretty dresses. Uncle Jack, get my book?” Mandy turned back to Jack, who realised that he had more to fear from Mandy than from Lizzie. 

Lizzie smirked, and reached across to retrieve the album from underneath the newspapers. “You mean this one, Mandy?” she enquired mischievously. “Here you are. Why don’t you show this to Miss Fisher, whilst Uncle Jack and I go and make some more tea? Jack, with me. Now” Lizzie swept up the tea tray, exiting the room, a befuddled Jack quickly rising and trotting after her, throwing an apologetic grin towards Phryne. 

‘Sorry’ he mouthed. 

‘I’ll be fine’ she mouthed back, smiling at him. She wondered how much the child would tell her whilst they were alone together. 

“Hello” said Mandy, looking at Phryne with huge eyes.

“Hello” said Phryne, unsure of how to handle whatever might be coming, “So, you’re Amanda.”

“Yes, but everyone calls me Mandy” replied the girl, nervously pushing her album towards Phryne.

“Well, you may call me Phryne. Would you like to show me what’s in that?” Phryne indicated the album. 

Mandy nodded and sat in the chair next to Phryne. She opened the album and started turning the pages. “These are all mostly about Daddy,” said Mandy, impatient to reach what she felt were the much more interesting pages at the back. 

“Which one is Daddy?” asked Phryne, scanning the pages, all of which appeared to be Court Reports.

“This one” said Mandy, pointing to a picture of her father. Phryne read the caption underneath, ‘Robert Evans, KC’. She raised an eyebrow, what had Jack been keeping from her. Mandy carried on flicking through the pages, which Phryne noted now started to feature some of Jack’s more notorious cases. No wonder the girl had seemed nonchalant about the prospect of a murder nearby. 

“How old are you Mandy?” asked Phryne.

“I’m six” said Mandy, proudly, finally reaching the first of the pages featuring Phryne, “look, here’s you” she said, pointing to a picture from earlier that year. 

“Oh yes, I remember this one. That dress is blue, do you like it?” Phryne asked.

“I do. John isn’t really bothered about things like this. He says boys aren’t, and that clothes are silly” said Mandy, looking at the picture.

“Who is John?” asked Phryne, suddenly curious.

“He’s my big brother. He won’t be home from school yet. He’ll be walking Janice Watson home. Which he thinks I don’t know about” whispered Mandy.

“Well then, that can stay just between us. So, is Uncle Jack your mummy’s big brother?” Phryne realised it had been hard to tell who was the oldest. 

“No, he’s her little brother. It’s the other way round from me and John. I wish I was the eldest sometimes, he gets to do loads more things than I do” Mandy mused.

“Well, sometimes being the eldest is over-rated. I bet your big brother just wants to look out for you.” said Phryne, flicking through the album. There were a lot of pictures of her, at various functions and parties and fund-raisers. There were some more cases of Jack’s, and some very recent clippings that were not yet stuck in the book. 

“Mummy and Uncle Jack are taking a very long time in the kitchen. What do you think they’re doing?” asked Mandy.

“I suspect they might be talking about me.” said Phryne, suddenly worried.

“Why? Is it because you and Uncle Jack are ‘together now’?” asked Mandy, “I don’t think I’m supposed to know that either” she said, suddenly looking guilty. 

Phryne was temporarily stunned. “Erm, we, erm, yes, I suppose we are.” She considered how to proceed, “when you say that you don’t think you’re supposed to know that?”

“Mummy sent John and I to do the washing up, but I snuck back down the hallway, and then Mummy teased him about this newspaper report”, Mandy indicated the coverage of the Pandarus raid, “and then Uncle Jack said that he cared about you, and that you were ‘sort of together now’ and Mummy asked if you were Uncle Jack’s girlfriend, and then Uncle Jack got all ramble-y and went quiet. And by then John had finished all the washing, and I had to dry” finished Mandy.

“You snuck down the Hallway? How very enterprising” Phryne was growing more enamoured of this child every moment. “Anything else you’re not supposed to know?” Phryne asked.

Mandy squirmed slightly, “your fur is lovely,” she said, looking at Phryne with big, doleful eyes.

“It is, isn’t it? Would you like to try it on?” Phryne asked, seeing that the girl had more to tell. Mandy nodded and Phryne wrapped her fur around the girl, “now, what else are you not supposed to know?” Phryne asked, quietly. 

“I’m not supposed to know about Auntie Rosie” said Mandy, suddenly quiet. “I’m too young to remember her. I don’t think I’ve ever met her, unless I was a very small baby at the time. And when Uncle Jack comes for Sunday lunch he’s always come on his own.”

“How long has Uncle Jack been coming for Sunday lunch?” asked Phyrne, suddenly worried for Jack.

Mandy scrunched up her face, thinking very hard about the answer. Phryne realised that to a young girl, time probably felt very different. “It was just after my third birthday, so, about three years?” she said. 

“Hmm. You said Uncle Jack got all ‘ramble-y’?” Phryne asked. 

“Yes, mummy is very good at getting you to tell her things, even if you don’t really want to. Daddy says she would have been even better at his job than he is.” Mandy said, with a hint of pride. 

“I wonder what Uncle Jack is telling your mummy now?” mused Phyrne.

Mandy hopped down off her chair and peered around the edge of the door. She looked back at Phryne and offered her hand, “you have to keep quiet, and walk exactly where I do”. Phryne quietly got up, and followed Mandy out into the hallway. Mandy swiftly moved to the far wall, and climbed the stairs using a combination of steps which Phryne realised had been carefully calculated to avoid any creaking treads. Mandy sat on the last but one step from the top, pulling her feet gently onto the step below. Phryne followed her example, and leaned towards the kitchen, as directed by Mandy. 

The kitchen door was open and Phryne heard the words “What you see, Lizzie, is the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher…..” drift up towards her ear from Jack’s mouth. She carried on listening.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

 

As Lizzie walked into the kitchen and placed the tea tray onto the kitchen table with slightly too much force, Jack followed her. 

“Do you like her? Please say you like her.” Jack pleaded. 

Lizzie moved to the range and moved the kettle to the hotter area. She bustled around, draining the teapot of its dregs and re-filling with new leaves. 

“She seems, fine” said Lizzie, when she had finished her burst of activity, “I’m sure she’s lovely. But you should have told her who I was before you got betrayed by a six year old.”

“Noted” replied Jack, leaning on the table with his back to the door. “But apart from being slightly blind-sided?” 

“Has she been to any more parties?” Lizzie asked.

Jack shrugged, not understanding why the subject seemed to have changed “probably. That’s what she does.”

“And does she do so wearing a fur that looks like it cost enough to keep us in this house for a year?” Lizzie glowered at her brother. 

“Lizzie” sighed Jack. 

“Is she leading you on?” asked Lizzie, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I’m having fun, Lizzie, you always tell me to have fun” sighed Jack. 

“She’s from a different world, Jack” hissed Lizzie.

“She’s from Collingwood” said Jack, a tone of exasperation in his reply. 

The kettle boiled, and Lizzie warmed the teapot. There was a pause, which Jack patiently waited for his sister to fill. 

“Have you seen today’s paper?” Lizzie challenged him.

“No, but I suspect you’re about to show me” said Jack.

Lizzie unfolded the newspaper which was lying on the kitchen table, and turned to Page Seven. There was a photographic report of the previous weekend’s fundraiser, which Phryne had been at. It had been the night after Jack had taken Phryne out to the pictures, before they had endured being snowed in up in the mountains. Well, mused Jack to himself, ‘endure’ would perhaps be over-stating what had ended up being a somewhat pleasant evening. He smiled slightly at the memory, and hurriedly composed himself. He looked at the pictures Lizzie was stabbing at with her finger. 

“Who are all these men, Jack? Why aren’t you in any of these? How many of them tried to take her home? Did any of them succeed? You’ve told me yourself that she isn’t ‘conventional’, and the newspapers contain thinly veiled gossip about her almost weekly!”

Jack sighed, taking a deep breath, “Well, Lizzie, these men are, whoever the caption says they are. I was not at that event, because Phryne's Aunt was, and neither of us wants to deal with her reaction to us, as yet. Several of 'those men', probably, tried to take Phryne home. Maybe all of them. I don’t know, and I don’t care. She didn’t go home with any of them. And whilst some of what the newspapers print about her might be partially true, they don’t really know her.”

“And you do?” asked Lizzie, with a hint of incredulity.

“I know enough” sighed Jack. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt” said Lizzie, plating up more biscuits. 

Jack tilted his head back, exhaled with a sense of exasperation and lowered his head to look directly at Lizzie. 

“What you see, Lizzie, is ‘The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher’, high-flying socialite. And that is her. Her life became extraordinary, and she has grabbed at the opportunities given to her and thrown herself at them. And she is amazing. She can match any of them in wit and intellect and style. But what I see as well is, Phryne. Who has had to endure circumstances that no-one should, and has somehow emerged from her past still whole.” Jack paused, challenging Lizzie to counter him. She wisely stood quietly. When Jack started speaking again, it was with an excitement that Lizzie had not seen for many years.

“She understands me, Lizzie. And she listens to me when I talk about my life, my tiny little life. And somehow, she cares about me. And I am still stunned that she wants to be with me. But she does. I love all of her. And I accept all of her. The rich parts, the poor, the happy parts, the sad. All of her, Lizzie. And she accepts all of me.” Jack fell silent, looking at his sister defiantly. 

“Well, that’s me told” Lizzie replied.

“Sorry” said Jack, calming down.

“Don’t be. I haven’t seen you so passionate in a very long time. I just worry that you’re going to make a fool of yourself” Lizzie leaned against the table next to Jack and bumped his shoulder. 

“Hmm. Probably. But isn’t that what you do when you’re in love: make a fool of yourself?” Jack smiled at Lizzie, who wrapped her arms around him and hugged him gently. 

“Now, go and talk to your Phryne, I’ll be through in a minute” Lizzie emptied the teapot and set about spooning in the leaves for the fresh pot. “And Jack?” he turned and looked at her, “Yes. I do like her”.

Jack turned and walked back to the Dining Room, finding Phryne sitting looking nonchalant at the table whilst Mandy was wearing Phryne’s fur and grinning. Phryne was unpinning her hat and placing it carefully onto Mandy’s head. Mandy grinned at Jack as he entered the room.

“Look Uncle Jack, don’t I look all grown up?” asked Mandy.

Jack tried not to laugh. “Yes, I’m sure you do”. He looked at Phryne who had an expression on her face that Jack couldn’t quite read. He turned his attention to the papers on the table; something felt like it was starting to click into place.

Phryne bent over and said something Jack couldn’t hear into Mandy’s ear. Mandy giggled, nodded, and slunk out of her chair, leaving the room. Jack looked at Phryne and raised an eyebrow. 

“I can fight my own battles” she said, but her tone conveyed that she wasn’t angry with him.

Jack wondered exactly how much Phryne had heard. “I know you can. She’s my battle. She’s fiercely protective of me. Big sisters” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well I can understand that” said Phryne, quietly.

“She does like you….”

“She’s just worried that I’m leading you on” 

“I know you’re not” Jack sensed that this conversation was finished, and he turned to his papers once more.

Sitting on the other side of the table, Phryne recalled one of her recent conversations with Mac. She loved him, and somehow, when she hadn’t quite been paying attention, she had allowed herself to utterly fall for him. Probably on the damned carousel she thought. And suddenly, the only thing that mattered was to tell him: to let him know that she felt the same as he did. 

“Jack?” she said, her voice quivering slightly.

“Hmm?” responded Jack, flicking through his notes and furrowing his brow. The solution felt as if it was at his fingertips.

“I love you” said Phryne, feeling her heart pound furiously against her chest as she spoke the words. 

Jack felt his heart lurch in his chest. He stopped looking at his notes, and slowly raised his head until he met Phryne’s gaze. She suddenly looked so fragile and vulnerable. As timing went, this was less than ideal. His jaw had dropped slightly. 

“I love you” said Jack. He extended his hand across the table and took Phryne’s delicate hand in his, caressing her palm gently with his thumb. 

“What happens now?” asked Phryne, afraid that she might find herself waking from a dream any moment. 

Jack had an epiphany and swallowed deeply. His timing was appalling. “I think I arrest the victim’s sister’s husband.” 

“What?” said Phryne, completely thrown by Jack’s statement.

“I think that Valet was trying to drop a hint. I think the husband might have been secretly harbouring feelings for our victim. And when he was rejected he sought his brother in law’s silence in the only way he could devise” Jack squeezed Phryne’s hand.

“Jack?” asked Phryne, her voice wobbling even more.

“I love you, Phryne. And I am sat in my sister’s dining room, with a corpse that is still warm, in the middle of the street outside. And I have no idea what happens next.” Jack wore an expression that said that he was just as shocked by this turn of events as Phryne was. Jack had no idea what had compelled Phryne to declare her feelings, and he was shocked that she had not sought to qualify or lighten the moment in any way. He had thought he would grow to be a very old man without Phryne Fisher ever saying the words that matched how his heart felt. And of course it was just like her to choose the worst possible moment, in the most surreal possible circumstance. 

Lizzie pounced into the room, with no sign of the tea tray. “Oh for goodness sake, Jack Robinson, kiss the woman. Your corpse is going nowhere, but I am dining out on this” she swept a hand between the two of them, “for the next six months. And I need an uplifting ending.” She paused, “so I’ll leave you to it” she swept out into the hallway, pulling the door most of the way shut behind her.

They both sat there for a minute more, before Phryne moved round to Jack. She sat in his lap, and wrapped her arms around him.

“Big sisters, eh?” she murmured gently.

“They are nothing but trouble” said Jack, as their lips met for a searing kiss. 

 

Five minutes later Lizzie carefully knocked on the door of her own dining room before entering with the fresh pot of tea. Jack and Phryne hastily rearranged their hair, as Phryne slipped from Jack’s lap to retake her seat. Lizzie poured the tea and Jack had just taken a first sip when Hugh knocked on the door.

“The ambulance, Sir” he said, bashfully.

“Thank you Collins. I’ll be right out” Jack replied. He stood up, still somewhat reeling from Phryne’s declaration. He donned his overcoat and held his hat as he moved towards the door. 

He kissed Lizzie on the cheek, murmuring “see you on Sunday then” as he did. He smiled at Phryne, “see you at the Station?” he asked. Phryne just smiled and tilted her head in acknowledgement. Jack left the house, and hurried over to have a brief word with the ambulance crew. He was grateful for Hugh’s intervention, but he worried slightly about what he had left Phryne to deal with. 

Phryne drank from her tea. “What’s the missing photograph of?” she asked, indicating the mantel.

Lizzie furrowed her brow, and Phryne realised that the family resemblance was unmistakable, in both temperament and physical mannerisms, if only one was looking closely. 

Lizzie wondered how Phryne knew, but then according to Jack, she always just did. She moved to the sideboard and retrieved the photograph from where she had stored it earlier, offering it to Phryne. 

Phryne gasped. It was a younger Jack, with Lizzie; both of them smiling eagerly at the camera. Phryne absent-mindedly stroked the picture. Jack was in uniform, a little like Hugh’s but an obviously slightly earlier version; shiny buttons all done up smartly down his tunic. “Well, I’m not sure about the helmet,” said Phryne, chuckling to herself, “but doesn’t he look smart” she grinned with delight. 

“This was the day he was promoted to Senior Constable” explained Lizzie, “He was so proud. We all were”. Phryne handed the photograph back to Lizzie, who restored it to its proud position. 

“Thank you for the tea and biscuits” Phryne said.

“Thank you” replied Lizzie.

“For what?” asked Phryne.

“For bringing my brother back to us. From, wherever he’s been” said Lizzie, shrugging slightly. 

Phryne smiled and finished her tea. Jack’s sister was just as astonishing as Jack was. She wondered what other surprises might lie in Jack’s life. 

Mandy was reluctantly coerced into returning Phryne’s hat and fur, with a promise of borrowing them again in future, and Phryne kissed Lizzie on the cheek as she left, pressing her card into Lizzie’s hand, “just in case you need to call” she said. She swept out of the house and returned to her Hispano, considering that not only had she and Jack possibly solved a case in record time, even for them, but that things with Jack appeared to have just moved on somewhat. She very much looked forward to whatever would happen next.


End file.
